Places We Go

Make It Easy

May 23, 2010

I finished "Momma Zen" on my last flight. I wish I would have read it prior to having same children, but I did take a few things a way from this tiny book. She discovered that "Why not?" was one of the most important questions to ask herself.

"It eases everyone's growth & change. And it makes things interesting because it leads where you have never been before. Never place you child in the care of another? Why not let others love them too? Never manage without a nanny? Why not try it yourself? ... Never going back to work? Why not introduce your child to the rest of you?"

You get her point.

After almost 4 years blogging with fake names & not telling our family or friends, why not be out in the public? Why hide? And that's what we'll do.

May 16, 2010

So it's pretty much official . . . we'll be moving "house" blogwise in a few weeks. Once the new blog is set up (with honest-to-goodness real names), I'll post a link for the new home so readers can update their RSS feeds. It's been a challenging decision but one that we pretty much had to make. After a while, it's kind of hard to hide that you actually know HTML and the like without giving away the "secret" . . . plus I have to explain the whole name thing as well as the fact that it is "just a knitting" blog.

May 03, 2010

Good god, people. I almost forgot how to log into to Typepad. Then when I did, I didn't know where to go. And I'll be real honest, ever since Typepad made some sweeping changes, I sort of never felt like trying to figure them out. That's my fault. So while I'm being honest here...

I told Ava I wouldn't discuss it & I'd put up a normal post. But how do you put up a normal post when you haven't posted in months? I don't know how to, so I won't. I haven't been around & there's no good solid reason. I have the time. I have stuff to say. But I haven't feel the need to type it out. I haven't knit is forever & it doesn't even feel strange. In the past, if I went two days, I felt dope sick. (I'm assuming since I've never done a drug that could make me dope sick). I don't have a twinge of icky when I haven't let wool glide through my fingers. I've worked on dishrags, but nothing that gets my wooly juices going. So what the hell, Lola?

I'll blame Flickr. I post over there almost on a daily basis. I'm honest over there. Don't worry, I've always been honest here. Maybe to a fault. Weren't there a couple post that I had to put Poo Warnings in the title? Didn't I apologize for saying, "cunt" a few times? Yes, I'm honest. But there's no fake names on Flickr & that's really my problem. I'd love to cross-post there, but I can't. And I won't. Our mother occasionally checks my Flickr page. And if she'd ever click on a link & end up here, we'd have an enormous problem. Like an epic problem that we might not recover from. She'd feel left-out & hurt. And no one likes those feelings especially a mother. But it is nice to blog. Even right now, I feel a little better airing these Bloggy woes. So what to do?

Ava & I talked about doing another public blog. Something that we could tell Mom about. I doubt she'd check it everyday. And I'm pretty sure we'll write something that will piss her off. I'm also sure that she'll comment & that will piss us off. That's the cycle of Mothers & Daughters after all.

What do you think, Ava? You think anyone would still care what we have to say? Do we do it or not? I know I told you I'd wait, but I'm your baby sister. Baby sisters aren't the rational ones.

April 18, 2010

The thing about birthdays is that they come around every year (usually, at least). Since the last post, there have been four . . . four . . . in that time span. Gus turned five on the 8th, Betty and Veronica turned 19 on the 15th, and SK turned another year older today (truthfully, he turned 35). And the thing about birthdays and blogs is that once you've extolled the virtues of the person in question, you've pretty much said it all. That being said, I'm pretty sure that everyone had a happy birthday although I wasn't with any of them when they celebrated it.

This is the first year that the Girls and I have been apart for their big day. Sure I posted birthday wishes on Veronica's Facebook wall and texted them much love and affection, but it's just kind of weird celebrating without them. I did, however, use their birthday as a chance to grab a burrito at Moe's and some ice cream at Baskin-Robbins afterward. For some reason, I wanted Chocolate Mousse and World Class Chocolate on the day of their birth, and the Flyer was a very obliging husband-to-be at that point and trudged off to B-R to grab me two scoops before he went to work. Six hours later, the Girls made their debut. For the record, he suggested Baskin-Robbins on their birthday . . . but I happily went along for the ride.

Since we weren't with the girls for their actual birthday, we celebrated a week early in Philadelphia. Prior to them attending Temple, Philly was the forgotten city for me. I went there rarely, cursed every minute of the travel, and couldn't figure out what all the hub-bub was about. In November 2008, my girlfriend Mary and I saw Kings of Leon at the Electric Factory, and she made it her goal to make me love the city. I'll have to admit, the flirtation with the City of Brotherly Love might have begun that evening. Of course, with all things romantic, it could have been the alcohol. I texted her last weekend and told her that I was giving the Flyer the abbreviated Mary tour of Old City. We walked a fair bit (translation: a lot) and then popped in to Triumph for dinner and drinks, but the Girls and their sweeties met us later that night at the Franklin Fountain for ice cream.

The next morning, we checked out early and walked and walked and walked. The nice part about where we were was even with lots of walking, you never really felt tired. So, one water bottle, two pairs of Toms, an Etsy shirt, some Starbucks cards, and cash for a new tattoo later, the girls went on their merry little way to their first birthday without us. Lucky for them, their friends thought of cupcakes . . . and I got my World Class Chocolate.

The knitting is slow going. Whereas Mabel started out like gang busters, I've started up an affair with the treadmill . . . so far, it's been fairly discrete, but I sense things getting more serious in the next few days. Don't worry, Knitting, I'll be back in no time.

April 05, 2010

Happy Easter (maybe a day late) . . . holidays are different when you don't have kids in the house. There was no dying of the hard boiled eggs, no buying of the Easter candy, no attempting to make everyone happy with the Easter dinner but pleasing no one. Actually, it was kind of like any other Sunday for us, except that we celebrated with an all day Law and Order: UK marathon. By the end, I actually did believe that Jamie Bamber was a Brit after all. Amazing.

At least while I was off I got to knit on the February Lady Sweater, which I will now refer to by its new and improved name: Mabel. For some reason, I just don't want to call it by FLS possibly for fear of jinxing myself. So Mabel she is, and truly, I have no idea where the name came from . . . it just strikes me as a Mabel. I think I have about eight more inches of the body to go and then just the sleeves. It's coming along quite nicely, and the rhythm of the Gull Stitch comes back relatively quickly. Probably helps that I have a student teacher right now (and that I have a ton of television series on DVD to watch). I'm hoping . . . hoping . . . that it will be done by the end of April. The shop is having a WIP-a-thon, but I'm not sure that I'm going to participate. Trust me, it's not that I don't have any WIPs (au contraire) but I really want to concentrate on getting a sweater done for a fall class . . . and I know my limits.

The sock I finished was started when I got my sweet peas tattooed this summer. It languished, as socks so often do, and needed only a few more round until it was finished. When I started this pair, I know that I intended to knit the left one spiraling one way and the right one spiraling the opposite. I think that if I reverse the position of the decrease and the way that I knit the decrease I should get the desired effect . . . but will I? For this one, I knit until the decrease, did a yarn over, and then knit two together. So, if I knit until the decrease, knit two together through the back loops (because I am lazy . . . sue me), and then the yarn over, I am thinking it will work. Famous last words?

April 01, 2010

It's hard for me to get enthusiastic about garter stitch. I know, I know . . . some people love it (Lola, for one) and create whole garments centered around the humble stitch, but me . . . meh. I could take it or leave it. However, I loved Lola's Rambling Rows that she made for Tuck and decided that when my co-worker at school announced she was pregnant, I would make her a Rambling Rows.

Two small problems: she wasn't finding out the sex of the baby and I hate garter stitch. At first, they didn't seem like much of a problem, but try picking gender neutral colors and you are left with icky pastels or bright primary colors. Both kind of make me want to puke. I was almost ready to say, "You know what color really needs a fashionable baby resurgence . . . gray!" until Joanne found some shades that I could live with. I knit and knit and knit on this baby blanket until I felt like my knuckles will most likely in twenty years when arthritis sets in. And still, it seemed like I was only on block 14 of 55. Through every snowstorm (and three seasons of Battlestar Galactica on DVD), I knit. This blanket has taught me many things:

How to tension my yarn properly around my index finger - yup, never quite did that before. Only problem . . . can't get the swing of it whilst purling.

How to weave in my ends as I go - I would still be weaving them in with a tapestry needle had I not done this each and every time I switched colors.

How much garter still blows - I don't get it. Really . . . it's soft and squishy, but blah.

How much I hate Dalegarn Falk - the yarn splits, it catches on my hands (but some how manages to look and feel amazing).

How piss poor my crochet skills are - still have to use the "I Can't Believe I Can Crochet" booklet to produce a single crochet (and I added a three stitch picot border on top of the single crochet border in a shade of yellow that will haunt me in my dreams many years from now).

So, amidst the epic Olympic failure that were the Johnny Rotten mittens and every conceivable project that inspired lust in my eyes, I created a pretty lovely little baby blanket for the baby of pretty lovely parents one of whom will be missed sorely as I teach without her for the next quarter.

That leaves me with a wide open knitting agenda, which has already been filled with the February Lady Sweater. Once more with enthusiasm, but this time with superwash . . . because I learn from my mistakes.

February 25, 2010

Hmmm, so it's been a while? Does that cover it? No? Tough. Sometimes when life throws lemons at you, you kind of have to run and hide. Fuck the lemonade . . . it's too cold for that shit right now. Work has been a bit of a bitch plus the "other responsibilities of which I cannot talk." Kind of puts me in a really, really foul mood with little time for knitting.

And when I do knit, I seem to screw it up royally. I cast on for a gauge swatch of the Icelandic Star sweater and messed it up. New knit needed for the Olympics. Enter the Johnny Rotten mittens. You could have slapped me in the face with their cuteness, and they were totally up my alley . . . except they'll fit a child instead of me since keeping gauge when doing Fair Isle with three colors is a bitch and a half. I don't have huge hands (truly, I don't), but I asked a friend at the shop to try them on knowing full well that she has tiny, tiny hands. Her response? "What child are these for again?" Umm . . . I"m guessing the Other Sister's daughter, who was born in England so they will be perfect.

Mom sent us a photo of her wearing the February Lady Boiled Wool Sweater, saying that she tells everybody, "Can you believe that my daughter knit this?" I felt like telling her that she really should be saying, "Can you believe that my daughter f-ed this up?" I don't think that I have officially lost my knitting mojo, but it is waning fast. Part of the reason is the baby blanket that I am knitting for a friend. I am in the home stretch, and it's taking forever (kind of like being pregnant) . . . but there's so many other pretty knits that are catching my eye.

We've had three days off from school due to a "snow hurricane" . . . two words that should never be used in the same breath. So far, it's been alright . . . so far. The Flyer, however, is snowed out. He's been in Greenville, NC since Monday and is due back either Friday or Saturday. Continental has been calling every hour or so to let me know that his flight is delayed, rescheduled or just plain canceled. So: cranky wife + lots of snow + tons of quiet = alcohol. Possibly not the most mature way to go, but what the hell?

I promise I'll be a better blogger; I promise I'll be a better knitter; I promise I'll be a better fill-in-the-blank.

February 09, 2010

I haven't had that desire to knit lately. I do, but I think it's just to keep my hands busy. Still plugging away on my sidebar items. But nothing has really grabbed my attention. That attention sucker Flickr is still really strong. Sorry knitting.

Then to make matters worse, Crochet struts into the bar. I saw this & knew I was going to give the Granny Square one more try. And with all my Cascade 220 scraps sitting in the basement, this is going to be a fantastic stash buster (remember this sentence, friends). Last night, I bought & started crochet. I stumbled. Then I fell on my face. But this afternoon, I found the right track. I made my practice Granny out of some cotton. Why? Everyone knows I hate cotton & it just looked like shit. I went downstairs & grabbed some tiny balls of wool. Ta da! One good lookin' square. I love the all-over tan look of the original, so I had buy two skeins of yarn. I went downstairs to look through my Cascade 220 stash. Guess what? It isn't there! Two weeks ago, I took all of my tiny tiny skeins to Goodwill. That's my luck. My fiber juices are finally going & I've got only a few colors. Ava, can you help your sister?

Columbus is getting hit with another snow storm. So I'm hoping to finish a couple squares while the boys & I keep warm. I hope your winter is cozy too.

January 24, 2010

About four years ago, I made the comment that I didn't really believe in stress. I might have even gone so far as to say that it was all made up so that people could feel better about the choices that they make. Funny little thing . . . stress. I kind of think that it isn't made up after all. For some reason, this is the busiest that I have been in a long time, and I'm feeling a little stressed. Huh.

A few days ago, a friend at work said, "You look really tired." First, don't say that to someone you like. Second, I wasn't that tired. Third, I almost burst into tears. Since the girls left for school in August, I've been doing more at work, and I think that it's starting to catch up to me. There have been some really late nights, especially when I get up at 5 AM for work, with some shitty eating habits to boot. Couple that with the Race to the Top initiative and trying to stay on top of that plus attempting to use data as never before with my kids (and when I say kids, I really mean my students . . . the girls - mine, the kids - they go home at 2:25 PM to some other mother), and you can see how my candle is getting rather short. Add to that whole mix the fact that I hate, despise, detest this time of year like no other. In addition, the Flyer is traveling a lot lately, which means that it is just me, the cat, and the dog in the house.

So, what does that mean for knitting? You would think that I would turn to knitting as my salvation in my time of, ahem, need . . . but no, even that has taken a back burner to work. I signed up for the Knitting Olympics at the shop, did a gauge swatch (really, I should get credit for doing that) but got 21.5 stitches instead of the 17 that I was looking for. Choices, choices, choices . . . do I recalculate and knit the sweater I intended, knowing I probably won't finish? Do I find a new project using stash yarn? Problem is, I can't figure out the answer. The Flyer wants to visit friends of ours in Alexandria and take in the Terra Cotta warriors during the Olympics; my first thought: how will this impact my knitting plan. Not: won't it be nice to see our friends or how awesome to see the statues . . . but how will I be able to knit my project. Honestly, I think that this is adding to my stress.

So, that's about it . . . poor little old me . . . stressed about data and federal stimulus money and events I couldn't and can't control and my girls and the Flyer flying and Olympic knitting. It's no wonder that my friend said I looked tired . . . I'm amazed that she resisted the urge to say I looked like shit. Somehow, amidst all this crap I managed to finish something of which I am proud. Rose's Wrist Warmers might be the nicest project I've finished in a long time.

Ava, who will stop bitching now

PS - Oh, and I am totally sucking at uploading photos for the photo a week group I joined on Flickr. Stress doesn't exist my ass . . . whoever said that was a crazy bitch.

January 17, 2010

I told y'all I won't be a better blogger in 2010. I knew it. And, again, I've got a FO! But it's really difficult to take pictures of mittens by yourself. And by the time SK gets home, it's dark. Stupid light.

We had a birthday this weekend. Tuck turned two. Good lord, two!? People have been saying all week, "I can't believe he's two already." Honestly, it feels like he's been two forever. Not because he's been terrible. He just seems older. Not because he's mature, but he just seems sturdy. Solid. Verbal. I'm sure none of these words convey what I'm trying to say about my baby, but I get it. He's silly. And he knows it. He knows what to say & when to say it for a laugh. He uses funny voices. Tossing you a look. And throws the same one after you've laughed at him. Goodness I love him.